


the fourth

by clayisforgirls



Series: brownieverse [9]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5892154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clayisforgirls/pseuds/clayisforgirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"it's been so long since his stomach did this around Mardy, well over ten years ago and he isn't sure if it's the brownies just inciting memories or he's just been blind since he quit tennis"</p><p>Originally posted in July 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the fourth

Right now, Andy can't think of anywhere better to be than on his patio, hot dog with all the extras in one hand, bottle of something non-alcoholic in the other. For the first time in as many years as he cares to remember, his family are together, and they're not fighting. Yet, anyway, he's stopped an argument from forming between two of his nephews but that as much drama as they've had. Of course, they haven't started on the alcohol yet, and Andy knows as well as anyone that it's the thing that makes even the most docile of families start wars over almost nothing.

Lawrence doesn't really talk to John, and though Andy still isn't sure why after all these years, he's okay with it now, because he knows it's easier than trying to break the two of them apart after a few beers. Sadly, their sons are taking after them, though he'd fixed that by putting a DVD on for the kids in his home cinema, and his brothers had looked on in awe. Sometimes he doesn't think either of them should have had children, though they love their own they're so blinded sometimes by the adult way to fix a problem, but he's realised over the years that in so many ways he's still the immature high school kid that couldn't get a date. Though he's thirty, almost thirty-one (and that's something he refuses to admit to, on most days), he doesn't act anywhere close to that.

It's the first time since he turned pro that his family are spending Independence Day together and he'd almost forgotten how much fun it could be before the arguments start. He'd loved spending the day with his family as a kid, remembers fireworks and ice creams and none of the bad things that come with spending too much time with his parents, and some years, he remembers Mardy. The last time they'd done this, in fact, when Mardy was living with them, before his parents knew and when they weren't watching, had hidden in his room and watched the fireworks from his window, sneaking brief kisses as the sparks lit up the sky.

It's different now; though they're see each other every single day they don't live in the other's pockets and there's the part of Andy that never grew up that misses the fact that he always had someone where to cause mischief with, and someone who he could always rely on. They're friends still, colleagues now, both working for his brother at his tennis academy though in different positions, but no longer whatever they were. Andy had never really categorised that, he'd never thought of Mardy as being his boyfriend or his partner or something else, he'd simply been his Mardy.

Their tennis careers totally different, Andy with a slam and several finals to his name, always beaten by the one person he longed to despise more than anything but couldn't quite make himself do it, Mardy too injury prone ever to make a serious run at anything but his silver medal and if Andy's honest, he'll admit to being jealous of Mardy for that, because he's always wanted a medal. It's almost reversed now, Mardy head coach at the academy and Andy hovering in the background, mostly doing administration because he'd been an awful tennis coach. Really, truly awful and he'd been relieved when John had all but fired him from the position.

Mardy's position had only been temporary at first but he'd been so good with the kids that he'd been hired full time almost two years ago, long before Andy even considered retiring from the game, back when he was contesting what seemed like his fiftieth straight US Open and he wasn't at the top but he was close, Roger still ahead of him in the rankings and he'd hated that so much. It'd been one of the only times he'd beaten the Swiss, only to lose far too easily in the next round to someone ten years younger than him.

Not too long after that, he'd gotten injured, and instead of the Masters Cup, he'd had to settle to being Mardy's best man at the wedding to his heavily pregnant girlfriend. All of it completely unintentional until a few weeks beforehand, the pair of them so hung over at the ceremony that Mardy could barely walk straight. He'd hated being injured, sitting out close to four months with a shoulder injury that almost refused to heal, doctors saying that the impact of the car had weakened the already damaged muscle but looking back, it'd almost been a blessing.

Divorced by the time Mardy's daughter was one, he'd stayed in Andy's house for a while, and in those few months there had been nothing more special to him than that little girl as Mardy fought for custody. Emily, Mardy had named her, and to Andy, she was totally perfect. He'd been heartbroken when they'd left, and she'd cried as Mardy had put her in the car, and he'd almost asked them to stay.

"Daddy!"

That was the reason he hadn't, because in those few months she'd called him 'daddy', just like she had Mardy, and he'd known it had upset Mardy just a little, even if he'd never say it. Despite trying to get her to call him Andy, she wouldn't, and he'd given up now, settling for being her second daddy for now and hoping that she'd grow out of it. He grins as he scoops Emily up in his arms, kissing her forehead, staring into beautiful green eyes that he could never resist.

"Having fun?" he asks her softly, smiling and he shakes her head and pouts, pointing to one of his nephews.

"Mean," she says as she buries her face in his shirt, and he lifts her off, putting her down because he can feel himself getting sticky and he wouldn't mind so much except this is one of the only nice shirts he has left, after she'd ruined most of them by painting them when he'd accidentally left them in a pile in his kitchen.

"Sweetheart, he's just playing around," and he takes her hand in his own, still amazed how tiny every part of her is, almost as much as the first time he'd ever seen her when she'd been in Mardy's arms and she'd grabbed his finger before yawning and drifting back to sleep. Blonde curls bounce as he pulls him towards the 'mean' culprit, her giggling all the way and he feels no less responsible for her as he would for his own children.

"Stephen, give Emily her doll back," he says, trying to be authoritative as Emily hides behind his leg, and this is one of those times when he wises that he was slightly more parental because he hates doing this. A quick glance over to his family show that they're deep in conversation about something, probably him and his ability to screw up even some of the basic things in life, and Mardy's inside, making the Fish special homemade chocolate brownies.

Andy had blushed when he'd suggested it, hadn't been able to look at Mardy for a day because all he could remember was their first kiss and how he'd wanted Mardy more than anything.

"Don't wanna give it back to a girl," the five-year-old says, doll hidden behind his back and Andy sighs. "Girls are icky."

"You want brownies later?"

It's the only thing he can think of that would have worked on when he was a kid, the promise of dessert was the most important and having it taken away while spending so much time with adults would have made a bad day even worse. Ice cream was the most important part of Independence Day when he was five, other than maybe the fireworks, and he hopes that children twenty-five years later are the same.

Fortunately, they are, and Andy grins as he gets a nod from his nephew.

"You don't get any unless you promise to give Emily her doll back and don't try and take it again."

He's pretty impressed with himself, and he's starting to think that he might be a decent parent one day, and wondering how his parents put up with him when he was five, far worse than any of his nieces or nephews.

"Okay," he says reluctantly, and as Stephen offers the doll back he takes it, and passes it to the girl still wrapped around his legs, Emily now with a huge smile on her face and as he picks her up again, gets a kiss as a reward. He can't help but smile back, glad to know that he can still make someone happy in this world, even if it is a kid who's dearly attached to him.

"Emily, honey, why don't you go get a brownie and play with Elizabeth," and she's off before he can put her on the ground properly, catching Mardy's eyes as he puts the tray of brownies on the table, letting the kids have first pick as he goes back to his bench, half finished Coke still there.

It's not long before Mardy takes the vacant spot next to him, handing him a still-warm brownie in a napkin. There are too many times to count how many times Mardy's made these just for him, whether it was to make himself feel at home the first year on tour, or just as a pick-me up after a loss, but they're designed to make him feel at home, and they do. It's just that the home they remind him of happens to be with Mardy, and he doesn't remember being much happier than the year they lived together. Maybe winning the US Open, becoming world number one, but even though they'd been together, he'd still felt alone.

Maybe that's why all his relationships have been doomed to fail, there'd been Mardy for five years and he'd just assumed that eventually he'd find the right girl – or guy – and that his string of relationships both on and off tour were just filling time before he found that person who he'd spend the rest of his life with. Maybe he'd just been so stupid that he couldn't see what was right in front of him, even though Mardy's been there for his whole life. At least, it seems that way, having known Mardy a lot longer than the time when he hadn't known him.

"Mar?" he asks around a mouthful of brownie, so reminiscent of that first kiss in the kitchen and nothing had tasted as good since he'd tasted Mardy and chocolate together, and Mardy stops fiddling with the ring-pull on his can of something and looks over at him.

"There's no nuts, before you ask. I know you don't like nuts."

He laughs, sure there is chocolate embedded in his teeth but Mardy's seen him so much worse that he doesn't care.

"Not the question."

Before he can even take a breath, Mardy's murmuring something into his ear, except it's been so long since his stomach did this around Mardy, well over ten years ago and he isn't sure if it's the brownies just inciting memories or he's just been blind since he quit tennis. Or maybe too involved in other things, still not quite over that last loss at Wimbledon, that one good run to the finals before he'd been shot down at the last moment again. It'd hurt more than he liked to admit to anyone, and that had been his official retirement from tennis. No Olympics like he wanted, because he wasn't sure that he could take yet another loss like that one.

When he turns his head just slightly, they're inches apart and this time, it's Mardy who's the brave one, closes the gap between them for just a few seconds and he feels like a teenager again.

"Are you blind or just stupid, Andy?" Mardy murmurs, so soft that even he can barely hear him, "because I've been hinting at this for months."

"A little of both," he says sheepishly, "but you know me, Mar."

"Yeah, sadly, and I know you're an idiot." He can't help but glare even though he knows Mardy's teasing, and he grins as Mardy presses an apology kiss to his cheek, pulling his legs underneath him as he shifts closer to Andy, not enough for anyone to really notice but enough for their shoulders to meet, for their fingers to overlap and for that happyfuzzywarm feeling to reappear, something he'd forgotten about. It's just like being sixteen again, touches, glances, kisses out of sight of his parents except this time it isn't for them, and they both know it. It's for Emily. Just like almost everything else in their lives.

"She already thinks of you as her dad, Andy," Mardy says as they watch Emily play with Elizabeth, colouring something that Andy really hopes isn't another of his good shirts. "She's also too young to understand, which is a plus."

"I wish she'd been ours," he says, wistfully, because right now she's still his best friend's daughter, nothing more; though she might think of Andy as her dad he knows that he really isn't.

"She is, you dork," and when he turns to face Mardy there's a proper smile on his face, one he hasn't seen in years, "you've raised her as much as I have, and definitely more than her mother. She trusts you. She loves you."

He smiles, he can't help it, and when Mardy puts his arm around Andy's shoulder and pulls him closer, he doesn't resist. Though he's started to hear bickering between his dad and brother, and there's definitely some childish squabble in the background, he doesn't care. Not when Mardy's here again, and it's his first Independence Day with his family in years, but it's the best one he can remember ever having, and he realises that he couldn't ask for anything more.


End file.
